It is not the end of the day at all, but so early in the morning that I would not usually even have leaped out of bed by now.
We had an early night last night, though, so today we were awake even before the alarm.
Partly that was blind terror. Did you know that Norland was founded by Emily Ward in 1892? We practised all of that sort of thing until long into the night, and rehearsed again and again why Oliver might want to come to Norland, and what he thought about children.
I slept well, though. The beds were really, truly comfortable, and every time I stirred in the night it was to settle back again with a feeling of contented pleasure at how nice the bed was. Also I had the most luxurious shower last night. This was partly because I did not need to clean it out afterwards, and partly because I keep the very last remnants of my Nice Shampoo and Nice Soap and Nice Hair Conditioner for travelling. These are the final remaining expensive drops, left over from wealthier times, before our beloved leaders did a Roger Poopy all over the economy, and I have saved them for times when I want to feel as if I am actually middle class and not just an aspirational peasant.
Oliver looked splendid. Number One Son-In-Law had bequeathed him a very nice jacket, so unused that I had to cut the pockets open, which he wore with a shirt and tie, neatly tied after about the third attempt in a perfect Windsor knot. We ate as much hotel breakfast as we could stomach, which wasn’t very much really, and then set off, arriving in perfect time despite flapping about the traffic and Oliver shouting No The Other Left at every junction.
There are lots of immaculately-attired nannies milling about here. They wear gloves and hats with their smart brown uniforms.
He has gone in. I shall update you later.
It is later.
We got home just before six, flung the washing into the machine, Oliver’s pizza into the oven, the taxi sign on the roof of the taxi, and now I am on the taxi rank.
It has been a longetty long day.
Oliver, as far as I can tell, is feeling pleased with his interview. It went, he said, very well. Everybody was lovely, and he thought that he acquitted himself quite reasonably. Of course you never know with these things, and after a while he got fed up with my persistent asking Did They Ask This? Did They Ask That? Well, What About..? – and switched the audio thing on to listen to a podcast.
They asked him why he wanted to come to Norland and what he thought about children, I discovered that much. To the first he said that it was because Norland was jolly good and he admired their core principles, probably in rather more detail than that because he was in there for a couple of hours. I can’t remember what he said to the second, but I am sure it was fine. I think they will be jolly lucky to get him, not least because the police and the Army are both putting their bids in as well.
I had a very pleasant morning. The sun was so warm I rolled all the car windows down and wrote my story in a warm bath of Vitamin D, after having first updated you, of course. I was having such a blissful time I almost jumped out of my skin when the door opened, and it was Oliver.
After that we crawled home slowly through the endless Birmingham traffic queues, which lasted more or less until. Manchester. There are a jolly lot of people down there, and we had to turn off to chug through them because of course the dogs were at Lucy’s house.
Lucy was at work, which was just as well, because we were rushing by then, and we hurled the dogs unceremoniously into the back of the car along with all their luggage, and dashed off home.
It is done. He has been thoroughly interviewed, and all we have got to do now is to wait.
Fingers still crossed, then.
